


Papercuts

by orphan_account



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Author Athos, F/M, hate to love i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-10 05:08:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4378391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anne de winter knew that being the editor for her new client would be a challenge. He practically lived at the pub, Hated any form of social interaction and wouldn't tell her about his new book. Oh, also he was her ex husband under a ghost name. Scrap challenging, this job was Herculean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for any mistakes in this as I am writing it at just past midnight on my phone. I do not own the gorgeous characters of this show but I wish I did. Anyway, hope you enjoy this.

“Right, this must be some sort of joke.” Anne groaned as her new author walked into the conference room, of course fate had played some part in him of all people being one of Treville’s clients. Treville, had retired a few weeks earlier, and despite Athos’ remarkable success as an author, none of the other editors on staff were willing to work with him.

Of course that was due to his rather difficult nature when working with those he did not know yet; yes he was polite and had the ability to complete his deadlines on time, more often than not he was found at the bottom of a bottle than drafting ideas for new novels. If she had some way of knowing that her ex husband was the illusive Oliver Athos then she wouldn’t have even thought about taking him on as a client despite how much she knew an international bestselling author could further her career. The editing business was rather ruthless and cutthroat but she would give anything to not have him as her client. Yes, he was brilliant. Yes, he would also get her more brilliant clients that she didn't poach from others, but at the end of the day more clients would request her if they saw the work she did on his books. When Anne had met Treville that week prior, he had told her she would need to be patient with Athos, that occasionally if his friends weren’t there she would have to rescue him from the bottle herself.

 _There is a certain price to pay to work with this sort of brilliance Madame de Winter, he will close himself off from you unless you give a reason for him to trust you, he will test you with how much time he spends down the pub, but if you think for a second he doesn’t care about whatever he is working on then you are wrong. You have to decide if you can be patient enough to not work with a starlet of an author, but one who is somewhat of a recluse and will maintain a way to keep you at arm's distance at least_.

And at least now she knew Treville wasn’t far wrong from describing the author as a possibly challenging client for her, although he was far wrong with the reasoning behind such difficulty. “Is Louis serious? You are supposed to be my new editor? Why did you accept me as a client?” He glared, sitting far away from her at the table.

“Trust me Olivier, if I had known the tortured author Treville was telling me about was you then I would have declined straight away." She replied drily, texting on her phone. "Thinking about it now it screams you." She poked at him, despite loving his previous work and not knowing Olivier du Vallon was him.

"What do you mean it screams me?" He murmured, sipping from his coffee. "The books are about musketeers in the 1600s. It's a historical fantasy Anne, nothing like me or my life at all." 

"The protagonist is a self loathing arse with a bitch of an ex wife, pretty familiar to me. Except she is an assassin and according to most people still loves him. " She replied, standing to leave. "Treville chose me to take his job so he obviously thinks we can work well together; and before you protest, there are no other editors willing to deal with your drinking or your constant want for anonymity. So you take me, or you edit your books and critique your work by yourself." She continued, challenging his icy stare. "And if you are anything like the arrogant upstart you were when we were together then even if your work was horse shit you would think it was god's great words. You have my details Athos, contact me when you stop sulking and start working." She sighed, leaving the room and only a smell of Chanel number five to linger in her wake as a sign that Athos wasn't even dreaming this all.


	2. Athos phone home

Athos sighed, grabbing his coat from his flat to head to the pub down the street, he would need more than a few glasses of hard liquor to get through the hell of his day and seeing his bitch of an ex wife. Cursing himself at the knock at the door he trudged to the entrance of his flat, ready to tell whoever was on the other side to fuck off.  
  
“Athos.” Porthos sauntered in, flanked by Aramis and D’Artagnan on either side with a Tesco bag of full of alcohol on his arm. “We figured you would want this after your meeting with your new editor, y’know since it isn’t Treville.” He shrugged, placing the bag on the table and throwing himself on the sofa.

“So, are you going to tell us what they are like or do we need to get a bottle in you first?” Aramis grinned, sitting with Porthos. “Anyone I would know from the company? Anne?” Aramis asked, suggesting his current girlfriend and wondering if it was any of the editors who had worked with him in the past.  
  
“No.” Athos laughed bitterly, quickly uncorking one of the wine bottles and taking a slug from it. “She is an Anne though, a bitch of one. The same Anne who used to be married to me, the one who fucked D’Artagnan last year.” He told them, bringing the alcohol over to where they were all sat in his sitting room. D’Artagnan of course remaining quiet as he thought back to the woman he ‘fell in love with’, that same woman who tried to ruin the career of his own girlfriend mere months before this discussion of her.

 “I’m feeling like we will need something a little stronger than beer, and they were all sold out of whiskey for some reason, so I guess you got there before us.” Porthos joked, flopping himself down onto the worn leather sofa.

“Ah, that could prove to be a problem whilst you are trying to pen out your latest masterpiece.” Aramis replied with a small laugh, handing a bottle to his friend. “How badly exactly did the meeting go then, I mean I know she is your ex but she’s also now your editor. She must be good at her job if Treville chose her as a predecessor.”

“Well compared to the slight damage done to my flat last time we spoke, remember when we had to go to ikea to replace all of my chinaware and glassware?” He asked, remembering the slightly entertaining adventure they had taken to the Swedish shop about a year ago, before he recalled the fiery argument that had caused said trip and the amazing sex that had preceded the argument. Of course she had left a giant Anne shaped hole in his door as per usual and a note on his table that simply read thanks. They never were good at communication. “The meeting went better than that, but I wouldn’t say that we were exactly civil.” He trailed off, taking a swig of beer.

“Is there not another editor you can work with? I mean even though Jean chose her to take his place as he doesn’t know she’s your ex, surely you could work with someone else.” D’Artagnan finally spoke up, trying to think of a way in which they could help their friend.

“No.” He sighed, resting his head on the back of the armchair as he leaned his head back and exhaled in frustration. “Apparently none are available to work with me, nor wish to work with a man who loves the bottle just as much as he loves his anonymity or his writing.”  
  
“Well I would say just stop drinking but we know that won’t happen, but mate I think you have to suck it up if you want to write your next book. I mean an editor is needed so you can get it published.” Porthos replied, despite knowing how much his friend would hate to hear the cold facts.

“And you could always email her to avoid face to face meetings, I mean all she needs is the manuscript, rough pages and how you are getting on.” D’Artagnan reasoned as he opened his own bottle of beer.

“I know, but I fear the book may not even get to the stage of editing if she is around. I mean sometimes she helps with my writing but most of the time she annoys me so much I drink more and end up writing nothing at all.” Athos grumbled, finishing his drink and grabbing another. “She will forever be the bane of my existence, I honestly hate her so much because she will never leave. I can never be rid of her it seems.”

“I know,  but just think my friend, after this book you may not have to see her again. Just one book is all it takes to be rid of her, she may even move publishing house and then you get the choice of going with her too.” Aramis tried to reason. “Plus, I’ve read some of her edited final pieces and they are good, just be professional and you can get it all done. All you need to do is write quickly, then it means she will leave quickly.

“I suppose that is true, I could always call her tomorrow to organise another meeting on neutral ground.” He grumbled, drinking from his second bottle as he fished his phone and her card from his pocket before heading into his room to get some quiet for the call.

Sighing, he sat on his bed and dialled her number, drinking another gulp of beer as he waited for her to pick up. _“Hello? This is Anne De Winter.”_ She greeted, picking up her phone on the third ring as he released a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding.

“Hi, it’s me.” He replied, knowing she would know who me was from the sound of his voice. “I know this is soon, but some people have spoken sense to me. I would like to meet tomorrow.” He stated, not giving her a chance to refuse.

 _“Hello Mr du Vallon, I take it you have seen the error of your ways and know your book is nothing without an editor.”_ He could hear the playful nature of her voice as she was most likely sat on her sofa nursing a glass of merlot. _“I can do one o’clock tomorrow afternoon, I will book out one of the smaller meeting rooms at work. Bring all the work you have so far, ideas, chapter plans; I need to see how long I have before I can start kicking your arse.”_

“Yes, that time is fine and I will be there, don’t worry it won’t be all for nothing.” He glared at the wall despite how she wasn’t there. “There will be no need to kick my arse or throw breakable objects at me, I have done some work towards the book.”

“Good, I shall see you tomorrow.” She replied bluntly, hanging up on him before he could speak again. This new book was going to be hell to publish, he knew that now despite only one chapter being complete at that moment in time. It would be a bloody masterpiece compared to his other novels though, it had to be if in order to produce it he had to put up with her for months.

 

 


End file.
